The Tale Of The Ghost Writer
by Artsy Writer
Summary: 23 year old Eric Martin or 'Writer'- a literature lover, dies an unfortunate death. However soon after he finds out he has turned into a ghost, because of some 'unfinished business' he had. He creates himself a new identity called the Ghostwriter, and this story is meant to tell about how he deals about just before, while and right after he dies.
1. Chapter 1: Meet the Writer

**-The Tale Of The Ghost Writer. **  
**Summary: 23 year old Eric Martin or 'Writer'- a literature lover, dies an unfortunate death. However soon after he finds out he has turned into a ghost, because of some 'unfinished business' he had. He creates himself a new identity called the Ghostwriter, and this story is meant to tell about how he deals about just before, while and right after he dies. (Even if this is a DP fanfic, you won't need to have seen the show though to understand this story.)**  
**Rated: K**  
**Disclaimer: I'll only write this once, so remember it. I don't own Danny Phantom.**

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Chapter 1: Meet the Writer.

"Uugh. Why must i wake up." The young man groaned. He was so tired, he nearly couldn't pull himself together. And it was his love for litterature to blame. Last night he had been so drawn into writing the next chapter of the story in his notebook that he hadn't even casted a single glance at the clock, when he finally went to bed. He tried to cover his head with his pillow, but alast finally gave up. The sun was too strong, and him having no curtains to shield the windows and his room from the brightness certainly did NOT help! He sat up in his bed, his eyes squinting at the brightness of his room. He yawned while stretching his arms, then to rub his eyes lazily. He glanced at the clock. Ugh, it was only 7 'o' clock AM. Even though his vision was blurry, he could still manage to make out the numbers on the alarm clock. It wasn't like he had anything better to do. He had no whatsoever reason to be up so early. He aspired to be an author and was currently working on his first book. Now, why don't we introduce him properly. His name was Eric Martin. Everybody called him 'Writer' though, due to his obsession with writing. He's a thin, scrawny, somewhat-tall man at the age of 23. His messy black hair goes down to his neck, flattened against it. He has dark green eyes, a short black goatee and pale skin. He also has a rather weird habit of rarely speaking in old english words and making his sentences rhyme. However he didn't feel a NEED to rhyme, he could stop anytime. From the bed where he sat he felt his fingers slide on a cold, smooth, wooden surface. Or rather, his bedside table. His fingers finally found their target. He picked the thin purple glasses up and put them on. Immediatly his blurry vision was enchanced and sharpened rapidly. He stood up and walked over to his closet. He opened it and took out his favorite set of clothes- which consisted of a light grey shirt, a pair of grey pants- a bit darker than the shirt, a pair of socks- same colour as the shirt, a purple trenchcoat- same colour as the glasses, and lastly a grey scarf- same colour as the pants. You could say, it was his signature clothes in some way. He took the clothes with him inside the bathroom, outside his room down the hall, to make himself ready for the day. But for some reason he had this unnerving feeling that something was going to happen. He just knew it. He walked out of the bathroom, now fully ready to take on the world. His steps creaked slightly as he made his way downstairs to the kitchen, his long trenchcoat wavering as he hurried. He wanted to work on his book, and the faster he ate, the quicker he could work on it. His mom was already sitting in the kitchen eating cereal. "My, my. Why are you up so early, Writer?" His mom asked. "Well, it isn't pleasant for me neither, the sun turns me into a cranky light-sleeper!" He rhymed, slightly cranky because of his lack of sleep. He found a bowl and a spoon in the cabinets. He didn't need to fetch the milk or the cereal as it was already standing on the table. "Someone got out of the wrong side of the bed today." Writer's mother replied. Writer didn't reply, he just poured some cereal into his bowl. He proceeded to pour milk into his bowl. Writer took a spoonful of the cereal and tried it carefully. This was some new cereal brand who just came out recently in this city. 'FrOOt LOOps' was the name of the cereal product. Writer found this amusing, which raised his spirits a bit. Because being a fruit loop, means that you're crazy. That's basic knowledge. Writer hurridly finished his cereal, put his bowl and spoon in the dishwasher and was just about to leave the kitchen when his mother asked "What are you up to since you're in such a rush?" "Book." Was all the reply she got when he rushed upstairs into his room. Writers dad who had been sitting at the table all along, occupied by the newspaper, lowered it to show his face, where he had an raised eyebrow. Writer closed his room's door and opened the window by the bed slightly. He made his bed, grabbed a pencil, an eraser and his trusty notebook, and started writing in the notebook, once he was laying in a comfortable position in his bed.

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Hours passed, and minutes flew by. Suddenly Writer heard his name being yelled more than once, now that he was snapped out of his little bubble he could also smell this weird burning smell. It stinked in the whole house. Suddenly he saw black smoke wifting up from the floor, and immediatly Writer pulled his scarf over his mouth and nose, effectively covering them from the poisionous smoke. He quickly sprinted out in the hall only to find the stairs collapsed in a fire which had also engulfed most of the house on the inside. He scurried back into his room, and opened his window wider looking outside. He saw his mom, dad and his 21 year old sister Julie all yelling at him to get out of the house. "I CAN'T! THE STAIRS HAVE COLLAPSED!" He yelled back. His room was beginning to become thick with smoke, and he knew time was running out. "WHERE'S THE LADDER?!" Writer yelled. "IT'S INSIDE THE HOUSE!" His mom yelled back. "I'LL GO GET IT!" Julie yelled, and then she ran out of Writer's sight."JULIE, NO! DON'T GO IN THERE!" Her mother yelled, running after her. "WRITER, JUMP!" His dad yelled at Writer, even though Writer lived at the 3 floor. Just as Writer was about to jump, he dropped his notebook, which the wind carried inside the garage, through the back door. "MY BOOK!" Writer yelled in sorrow. "I'LL GET IT SON, JUST JUMP!" His dad yelled and ran into the garage, out of sight, and suddenly some of the oxygen flasks from indside the garage exploded, making the house explode and crash down on itself.

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**Well, that was chapter 1, and just in time for december too :)**


	2. Chapter 2: Ricky

**And here's chapter 2**

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Chapter 2: Ricky

Writer didn't feel any pain. No impact, no nothing. He opened his eyes. His ears were still ringing because of the explosion. What he saw shocked him. The house was completely gone, except for destroyed, still burning wood. He walked through the destroyed wood and made it over to the neighbors's fence. At least there were no burning wood over here. He watched as the firefighters parked together with the ambulances. Writer was scared and confused, feeling, and knowing that it was his fault his family probably was dead. Why couldn't it just've been him instead. The firefighters began searching for people underneath the destroyed house and putting the fires out. "We found one!" A firefighter shouted. After a moment he shouted "She's dead!" They began to move her over towards the ambulance. Writer didn't think clearly. As soon as he saw the woman they had dug up was his mom he lost it. He screamed in terror, running up to the body, not noticing the echo in his voice and if he could, he would cry. He had just lost some of his family to a fire. But for some reason he couldn't. The firefighters put her down when they noticed Writer. They gave him terrified looks and started backing away from him. "No… No no NO!" "This is _NOT_ happening!" He clutched his head and started sobbing without the tears. "There's another one here!" Another firefighter squad yelled. "She's alive!" "C'mon folks let's get some help over here!" As soon as Writer heard it he muttered "Julie…" Under his breath. He ran towards her whilst she was being carried on a stretcher. "Julie! Are you awake? Can you speak?!" He was starting to panic. "Who… Who is this..?" Julie asked weakly. "Julie, it's Writer! Can you see me?!" The firefighters kept looking repulsed at Writer. "Yeah.. I c-can see you, Writer… W-why's your skin grey..?" Julie asked, but then she started coughing blood up and the firefighters hurried themselves away from Writer using her coughing as an excuse to get away from him as quickly as possible.

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_My skin's grey?_ Writer pondered over what she had meant. It didn't hit him to look at his hands, before now. He stared at his hands. His OWN two hands, but they didn't look like his own. They looked dull and the grey colour didn't help. He also noticed the white glow, his whole body seemed to be giving off. He didn't know what to say or how to react, and above all of it, his mom was dead, his sister had fatal injuries and his dad was either buried alive or dead + something weird was happening to himself. At the given moment he could only think of one place to go. Ricky's. Ricky had been his best freind since High School, so the two of them knew each other in and out. Writer knew Ricky would help him in a time need, any day so Writer decided to walk over to Ricky's place. People backed away from Writer, or gave him repulsed looks at the way over to Ricky. At least it wasn't a long walk, they lived pretty close to eachother. Writer arrived at Ricky's doorstep, he rang the doorbell and waited for Ricky to answer. "Who's this?" A muffled voice asked, right behind the door. "It's me, Writer!" "Writer? What's with your voice? You sound faraway! Like you have an echo to your voice." "I do? I haven't noticed, but please let me inside. I need to talk to you." The door opened revealing Ricky. "Writer?" Ricky stared at him mouth agape. "You too? Everyone has been staring at me all day and i don't even know why!" Writer said grumpily. Ricky closed his mouth and looked down. "Sorry." He muttered. "You're free to use the bathroom mirror." He said, before Writer even asked- which he was about to. Writer needed to know why everyone was giving him odd looks. Writer thanked his best friend and walked upstairs. When he saw his reflection in the mirror he suddenly understood why everyone had stared.

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**Gotta love cliffhangers xD**

**Oh well if you want to, then you're free to rate and/or review.**


	3. Chapter 3: A ghost?

Chapter 3: A ghost?

He looked like a monster, a demon version of himself. His before pale skin was now a pale grey. His before dark green eyes were now an electrical glowing green, his goatee were a little longer- wavy and untamed, his ears were long and pointed and his teeth were now sharp as a piranhas. And let's not forget the radiant white glow his whole body was giving off. He backed away from the mirror, before letting out a shrill scream. Writer stumbled on his feet and… Didn't land. To his amazement and horror he was floating in the middle of the air, wobbling and trying to control it. In that unfortunate moment, Ricky decided to burst into the bathroom. "Writer what's wro-" Horror was painted in Ricky's face as he watched his best friend float around inside the bathroom. If you watched this in third person's view however, it looked quite comical. Somewhere in the ghost zone, a certain time master chuckles. "RICKY, HELP! I CAN'T GET DOWN!" Writer was beginning to panic and hyperventilate, even though he, strangely didn't need to breathe. He flailed his arms in panic. Ricky just stood there in shock. Finally Ricky snapped out of it, and pulled his best friend down until his feet touched the ground. He flinched when he touched Writer. It was like touching a freezer. "Wow, Writer you're as light as a feather!" Ricky said still shocked, trying to make it seem just the tiniest little bit comical. Writer was on the other hand, downright terrified. _What's happening to me?!_ His thoughts were racing around inside his head. "Okay Writer, follow me downstairs." Writer, just to be safe, took Ricky's hand so he wouldn't float off like a balloon. Ricky flinched at his freezingly cold freind's touch. They sat down at the table in the kitchen, and began talking about what happened. Writer explained it all to Ricky, and they both had calmed down a bit. "Hmm, let's go over to your house. I want to see how bad the damages are, for my self." Ricky said. Writer and Ricky left to go to his now destroyed house. As they got there they heard a faint "There's a third and fourth body over here!" However Writer heard it much clearer and louder, for some reason it felt like his senses were at their best. _A fourth body?! That can't be right! Maybe there were an unnoticed theif or maybe an unwelcomed guest in our house when the fire broke out!_ Writer thought. He began to run, and so did Ricky. They eventually got over to the bodies, since everyone backed away from Writer, fear and horror shown in their faces. Writer fell to his knees when he saw the fourth body's lifeless face. He had mixed emotions. He was scared, confused, surprised and horrified. The fourth body was… His own.

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It looked like what he used to look like, when he still looked human. His body looked like it was asleep, but Writer knew better than that. There was only one explanation. Writer was dead, and now a ghost. He looked at Ricky a sad expression softening the features in his face. The firefighters and the doctors who didn't know what all this ruckus was about, came over to see, startled, and some even started to scream. Ricky put a hand on Writer's shoulder trying to comfort him. Writer stood up and turned around, now facing Ricky. "Well by the looks of it, i really am a ghost Writer now." He smiled weakly at his terrible attempt at making a pun.** (Ghost Writer= An anonymous sort of author.)** "Yeah." Ricky answered silently. "Besides, Writer, you've never been able to make any good puns." Writer looked around him. A rather large crowd that had gathered, was now standing, whispering and/or pointing fingers at Writer. Writer felt uneasy, he was an more of an introvert and didn't like crowds. Almost to the point of claustrophobia. It got too much when journalists started taking pictures of him and his dead body. "Ricky, I-i need to leave." Writer spoke in a low toned voice. "It's okay. Leave. Just promise me you won't turn insane or malevolent like most ghosts." Ricky half-whispered. Writer smiled at his humor. "I'll try my best, not to turn malevolent. I won't promise you anything if i'm not sure i can keep it though." He said before realizing he was hovering above ground. Writer tried to focus on the feeling of flying, and it worked. He was now flying succesfully above his old house. He waved to Ricky and took off. He was grinning wide, but then he looked down at his legs. His legs were GONE! Instead, taking it's place were a same-color-as-his-pants wavy mist. He could feel himself starting to panic as he tried to seperate his legs. Thankfully, his wavy mist/ghost tail vanished and was replaced by his legs. He really needed to adjust to being a ghost. Suddenly he felt rather tired. Not tired as in 'sleepy', tired as in 'i've-used-way-too-much-energy-today'. His flying began to become wobbled an uncontrolled, and he began to fall from the air. Last minute, just before he hit the earth he turned intangible and phased down into the ground. A second later, he phased from the ground and onto the surface, whilst he quickly turned tangible. He had no idea how he was doing this though. He guessed it was on pure instinct. His walk were tired and he used the buildings he walked by to support him, with his left hand. He walked inside a dark alley, were it was most likely noone would enter. He walked far inside the ally way and once he was far enough he sat down, his back leaning against the brick wall. His eyes closed, and he entered a coma like state which allowed him to regain energy.

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**If you haven't noticed, then some of the sentences rhyme. Just thought i'd point it out. When i wrote it though, i didn't even notice at first myself xP**


	4. Chapter 4: Powers quite ghostly

Chapter 4: Powers quite ghostly

When he opened his eyes again, himself filled with energy, it was dark. The sky was black and appearantly it was past midnight. He looked around in the alley way, wondering how he had had gotten there, but then it all came back to him. He was a ghost. He looked around in the alley to see if anyone was near, just to be sure. Because he lighted the dark alley up like he was a christmas tree. Suddenly he heard voices, walking into the alley. Writer quickly dived behind a nearby dumpster, trying to hide. For the moment he had completely forgotten about being a ghost, which resulted in you could turn invisible, and without noticing he had also managed to surpress the white glow, so it looked like it wasn't there. The voices moved deeper into the alley, advancing Writer's hiding place. The voices were both men, Writer could hear that. Writer's heavy breathing made the two men silent. Writer wanted to smack himself so hard right now. Out of habit, he had breathed heavily, without noticing. The two men started walking in his direction, approaching him. Writer closed his eyes and he bit his lip, forgetting his teeth were razor sharp. "Well well well, what do we have here?" A mocking voice said, and you could hear he was smiling malicously. Writer looked up at the voice's source instantly remembering this voice as one of the two men. The two men was looming over him, both standing with wooden bats smiling malicously. "We were supposed to get our payment here, but that doesn't mean we can't have some fun while we're waiting!" Suddenly, very unlike timid little passive Writer, he felt an incredible rage, he didn't know he was capable of. The white glow returned as it was no longer surpressed, his eyes glowed even stronger and turned completely red. He lifted off the ground and hovered. The two men backed away from him, panicking. Writer started spinning in the air, so fast that he eventually looked like a tornado. When he stopped spinning his eyes were once again a glowing electrical green, but a floating glowing circular keyboard with large computer screens appeared, surrounding him. It was made of glass, where the keyboard and the computer in itself was maroon. Writer looked puzzled. He had no idea what to do. Both of the men were staring at Writer, too afraid to move.

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"W-who and w-what are you?!" The man who had spoken to him before, stammered. He was obviously afraid. Writer thought for a minute. He didn't want them to know his real name nor his nickname, therefore he had to call himself something else. The only thing that came to his head however, was 'Ghostwriter'. "I am the Ghostwriter, and obviously i am a ghost." He smiled, baring his razor sharp teeth. Both men flinched at that. Ghostwriter looked at the keyboard once again wondering what it could do. One part in his brain was chanting _write write write!_ While the other part was screaming _don't don't don't!_ He decided to write on the keyboard in the end. He wrote;

_Both of the men, they screamed bloody murder,_  
_as they ran for their lives- into the suburbs, even further. _

Ghostwriter stopped typing and looked at the two men. Suddenly they both stood up and ran screaming out of the alley. Ghostwriter raised an eyebrow, thinking clearly 'Déjà Vu'. Maybe because he wrote them doing something, and then they did it afterwards? Maybe this particular keyboard could alter reality? Ha, that would be ridiculous. There's no such a thing, but then again there's no such thing as ghosts either. He frowned. If this keyboard really could alter reality, then he had a problem. He couldn't just leave such a powerful keyboard like that here. Nor could he take it with him, he would have a hard time hiding it. And besides that, he didn't even know how he summoned it in the first place! If anyone knew that he had a reality altering keyboard, then he would be hunted to the worlds end. Ghostwriter cringed at the thought. No, he couldn't just take it with him and be all 'Lalala, hey everyone i have a reality changing keyboard!' But on the other hand, he couldn't just leave it here, so that it would fall into the wrong hands… Ugh, this was a tough decision. As on cue the keyboard disappeared. _Well, at least THAT problem has been taken care of._ Ghostwriter thought. He decided that he better get moving before other people saw him. But where to… Wait a second, what about Julie! He had completely forgotten about her! Ghostwriter decided that she ought to know about what happened to her brother, so he took off into the night sky.

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**And that was chapter 4 for you guys!**


	5. Chapter 5: Bitter reunions

**Oh i forgot to mention that this ****_is _****my first published story, so i can't really give you a link to anywhere... That is, if anyone at all were interested. Oh well, onto the story.**

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Chapter 5: Bitter reunions (You see what i did there? xD)

Soon after, he arrived at the hospital, phasing through the glass doors invisbly. He remained invisble and flew over to the (thankfully) empty counter. He then proceeded to type in the 'search for patients' field on the counter's computer. "Hmm… Julie Martin." He said out loud, not even realizing it. A woman who sat in one of the waiting chairs, started looking around when she heard the voice, soon enough finding out she was still ***alone***. Ghostwriter looked under the details and found out Julie had a visitor at the given moment. He quickly glanced at the room number at the computer and phased through the ceiling until he was at the same floor as Julie. He found her room rather quickly and turned visible, as the coast was clear, before knocking on her door. "Come in." A rather hoarse and weak voice said. He opened the door and saw Julie laying down in the hospital bed with all kinds of medical equipment attatched to her… And his half brother who-looked-just-like-himself-except-for-the-hair-colour, Randy sat on a nearby chair drinking an orange juice brick.

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Randy dropped the juice brick, mouth agape staring at Ghostwriter. Ghostwriter also- with mouth agape, stared at his half-brother Randy. They hadn't seen eachother since forever. And they both preferred it that way. Randy disappeared mysteriously a half year ago. Their staring turned into glaring. Randy's only difference from his half-brother except for personality, was his white hair- wait a second… White?! He used to be blonde! Now that Ghostwriter took a closer look at him, he knew that Randy appearantly, was dead as well, because they looked just like eachother (except for the hair color), even the clothes were the same for crying out loud, except for the colors. Randy wore thin dark blue glasses, A dark blue trenchcoat, a dark green scarf, a white shirt, dark green pants, white socks and black shoes. They glared daggers at eachother, until Julie broke the akward silence. "Writer? Where were you? Where are mom and dad?" Julie asked, her hoarse voice frustrating herself. "Uhm… Hi Julie." He smiled sheepishly. _Should i still tell her? I'm starting to get second thoughts._ "Uuh, Julie? Mom and dad are… Gone." He frowned. He didn't want to be the one to break the news. But on the other hand, there weren't exactly others to do so, as the nurses hadn't told her yet appearantly. Julie's eyes widened. "N-no…" He could hear her mutter, barely audible. "Writer?" "Yes?" "Why do you and Randy look so weird?" Ghostwriter opened his mouth, but then closed it. He repeated doing this for what felt like 10 minutes. Randy on the other hand was sitting completely still, like he was petrified. Julie knew this response meant that there were something up. And by the looks of it, this wasn't a small problem that could be solved easily. "Writer please, just tell me. I need to know if there's something up." Julie pleaded. Ghostwriter seemed to be in the middle of a mental conflict, and Randy seemed to have paled visibly, even though he was DEAD. "I-i'm-" Ghostwriter didn't really know how to put it. "I'm dead." He finally said. Randy was mouthing 'Are you crazy?!' But Julie didn't notice Randy. Julie didn't believe Ghostwriter, all the other uneasiness that Randy and Ghostwriter had displayed were gone from her mind. _After all that happened and then he comes and makes fun of the dead while he's dressing up as some movie monster!? That is crossing the line!_ Julie thought. "Take that stupid costume off Writer! And you too Randy!" Randy flinched at his name being said. "Do you think this is funny?! Well tell you what, it isn't! Mom and dad just died, and this is how you repay them?!" She shouted at them. "Well fine! Sorry that i ought you to know, sorry that i took my time to find you even though i have no reason to, oh and sorry to disappoint you, but this isn't a costume or a trick!" Writer shouted back. "Do YOU think it's funny to be dead!? Do YOU think it's funny, knowing you'll have to see a demonic version of yourself everytime you look in the mirror, for the rest of enternity!?" Ghostwriter was beginning to hover off the ground, because of the anger inside him. "Well , Warning: Spoiler ahead, it's not!" He shouted his eyes glowing an even more intense electrical green. Julie's eyes widened and she trembled in the hospital bed, scrambling out of the covers to get away from her ghost brother. That was a mistake. Ghostwriter's anger disappeared and was replaced by an alarmed and shocked expression as Julie suddenly couldn't feel the hospital bed beneath her hands anymore, she lost balance and fell out of the bed with her head first, to find out she had been catched last-minute in bridal style by Randy. She struggled to get out of Randy's icecold grip, she had no intentions of staying here. If Ghostwriter was a ghost, then Randy had to be so too since he also glowed with a white glow. Julie looked scared at Ghostwriter, and his face was full of guilt and regret. He hadn't meant to scare her, he had just forgotten how little it took before ghosts scared humans. Randy was hovering a few feet off the ground, his feet had turned into his misty ghost tail, holding Julie who were still trembling.

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**And that was chapter 5**


	6. Chapter 6: The nurse, Randy and Gw

Chapter 6: The nurse, the malevolent-half-brother Randy and the Ghostwriter with an emberassing phobia

Just as Ghostwriter thought it couldn't be worse, someone knocked on the door. "I hate Murphy's Law." Ghoswriter grumbled right afterwards. **(Murphy's Law = Rule nr. 1. Never say anything can't be worse than it already is. Reality WILL prove you wrong.)** "Julie, are you okay in there? I heard shouting." A nurse asked from outside the door. "I-i'm fine." Julie stammered. "You don't sound fine. I'm coming in to investigate." Randy immediatly place Julie on the bed, tucking her in so it looked like nothing had happened at all. Ghostwriter stopped himself from hovering and landed soundlessly on the floor, just as the doorknob turned. The nurse walked inside the room and instantly stared at Ghostwriter. "Excuse me, but who are you?" The nurse asked, her eyes narrowing. "I'm Julie's brother, Eric. Call me Writer, though. Everyone else does." Ghostwriter answered politely. The nurse eyed him sceptically and muttered "Cosplayers and their movie monster costumes, scaring patients. Hmph!" Under her breath, but then she noticed Julie and rushed over to her. "Julie, why are you shaking like that?! You look like you've seen a ghost!" Randy and Ghostwriter immediatly snapped their heads in direction of the nurse on the exact same time, Julie paled when the nurse said that and started shaking even more. "Oh dearest, you're freezingly cold! How come you are that cold? The windows haven't been opened, have they?" After the nurse said that, she turned her head to glare at Ghostwriter and Randy. Randy who were standing besides Ghostwriter, leaned closer to him and whispered into his ear. "Yup, definantly bipolar." Ghostwriter raised an eyebrow at Randy. "Who threw that juice brick there?!" The nurse sounded pretty pissed off. "Umm, sorry that was me." Randy raised his hand, and then picked the ORANGE juice brick up. As soon as Ghostwriter saw it though he screamed in terror, backed away and stumbled on his feet, this time landing. "Get- that THING… Away from me!" Ghostwriter gasped. Randy smirked. Oh how he loved torturing Ghostwriter. He had missed it. "What's with him?" The nurse asked. "Chrysophobia." **(Chrysophobia=fear of oranges, both fruit and color)** Randy answered smirking like an arsehole… Which he already is. How ironic, that Ghostwriter loved writing poems the most and had a fear of oranges. Too ironic to not to be fun. **(Why it's ironic= Nothing rhymes with orange)** Randy threw the juice brick into a nearby trashcan. "It's gone now, Writer! You can stop twitching now." Randy sounded pretty irritiated, and immediatly Ghostwriter ceased twitching.

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"You two should leave, now! This patient needs rest, and two obnoxious brothers who cosplays famous movie monsters just won't do the trick! Out!" The nurse yelled, she probably had snapped, and attempted to shove Randy and Ghostwriter out of the room. Randy took Ghostwriters wrist and turned them both intangible right before she hit them. "Randy, what are you doing?!" Ghostwriter was surprised at first, but quickly turned furious. "You blew our cover! What do you think you're doing?!" He hissed. The nurse who had fallen through them, stared at them -and she looked scared. **VERY** scared. "I don't know about you Writer, but i'm tired of hiding! I hid myself amongst humans for a half year, and that's more than enough! Why not show this nurse what we REALLY are?" Randy smiled mischeviously additionly showing his piranha teeth, and started hovering above ground. The nurse backed away from Ghostwriter and Randy, frightened. "No." Ghostwriter said automaticly, thinking back at what he promised Ricky. "Excuse me?" Randy looked pretty angry. "I said no. You might want to scare and maybe even kill humans, but i won't." Randy crossed his arms and pouted. "Fine! Be that way then!" Randy said his voice raising. "Goodbye Julie!" Randy said hastily before turning intangible and phasing through the window. The nurse backed further away from Ghostwriter shaking. Ghostwriter frowned and looked down at his feet. "Well, i guess i should take my leave too then." He looked at Julie one more time, before saying "Goodbye Julie." And then he phased through the window aswell.

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**Short chapter is short.**


	7. Chapter 7: All roads lead to the GZ

Chapter 7: All roads lead to the Ghost Zone

After his departure, Ghostwriter stole a notebook, an eraser and a pencil and wrote stories to pass time. Weeks passed, and one night he was flying above the city when a green swirling portal not so far away from him appeared. He was curious and felt drawn to the portal so he flew closer to the portal and went through it. What he saw on the other side astonished him. There were nothing to land on, he was floating in the middle of what looked like a swirling vortex of green and black. Oh, and there were a lot of purple doors floating around here too. When Ghostwriter turned around to fly back into the portal again, it was gone. He looked around in panic, he didn't like this place. At all. It was too creepy for his liking. His best hope was to fly around in here until he found the portal again, IF he could find it. He decided to fly in some random direction and soon enough he found floating stone isles -which added to the creepyness. Ghostwriter shuddered. He flew further into this weird realm, and finally he saw somebody else standing on one of the floating isles! Maybe he was saved! But as he came closer he realized that the other person was looking like a teenage punk-rock singer. And she had flaming blue hair. And when i say flaming, i literally mean that her ponytail was made of blue fire. That was probably a bad sign, so Ghostwriter ignored her and continued his journey. After what had felt like hours, he finally came across a building, and there were probably somebody else in there he could ask for help. The building in itself looked like an ancient greek building made of… Books?! There were no mistaking it, the greek building was definitely made of gargantuan books. And there were standing two lion statues on each side of the stairs that led up to the doors. He flew over to the doors and knocked once, but however as soon as he did that, the doors swinged open. Ghostwriter took a step inside. "Hello, is anybody here?" He called out his voice echoing even more inside this building than normal. No answer. He walked further inside and stood with mouth agape in amazement. This place was like his dream home. This building was also a library. But then his eye caught on something in the middle of the library. It was the reality altering keyboard from before!

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He walked over to it and touched it and to his surprise, the keyboard had turned intangible, allowing him to step inside the circular keyboard. As soon as he was inside the circle, the keyboard turned tangible again. "I certainly wonder what this keyboard is." Ghostwriter muttered. As on cue a book freed itself from one of the bookshelves and flew right in front of Ghostwriter. It also opened and shoved Ghostwriter a page with a picture of the keyboard, entitled; 'The Quandrum Keyboard.' All sorts of information about the keyboard was standing on these pages, even that it could alter reality. So Ghostwriter WAS right after all. As soon as he was done reading the information about the Quandrum keyboard, the book flew out of his grip and landed on it's place on the bookshelf. And then… He got an idea. "Where am i?" He asked out loud, and another book freed itself from the bookshelves. It flew over to Ghostwriter and opened the first page. "The Ghost Zone." He muttered, reading out loud. "The Ghost zone is a realm tied to Earth. If Earth was destroyed, then the Ghost zone would be so too. When people die and turn into ghosts, they will before or later find their way into the Ghost zone, and only few ghosts out of the many hundreds will escape this binding. For the record, the only way into- and out of the Ghost zone is for now, natural portals. Natural portals are rare, unstable and usually only lasts a minute or less, which is why they're dangerous, and only ghosts who haven't been into Ghost zone yet, attempts it. If you don't manage get through the portal in time, it will create an unstable time paradox which Clockwork(see page 3) will have to take care of, and the given ghost that caused it, would be erased from existence. Therefore it would be very stupid to attempt it." Ghostwriter finished dryly. He flipped the page until he was at page 3. He read; "Clockwork. Clockwork is the master of all time, Past, Present and Future. He's also known under other names such as Chronos, Father Time and many others amongst them. He knows everything, and he sees everything. He can stop time, and he exists outside the time line." Hhmmm… This was certainly interesting. Ghostwriter was just about to turn the page, when the book closed and flew back to it's place at the bookshelf. "So, uuuh. How do i get out of the Ghost zone?" A book flew over and smacked him in the head. "Ow!" He shouted, rubbing the sore spot where the book had hit him. The same book flew in front of him and flipped a few pages. The word 'Natural portals' was highlighted. Ghostwriter hmmm'ed and then asked the library. "Would the risk be worth it?" Another book flew towards him. He managed to catch a glimt of the cover. The book was entitled; 'Invader Zim Scriphts.'**(1)** Ghostwriter looked at the book when it flew in front of him. The book opened and flipped the pages. This time the words that were highlighted were 'No, don't be silly.' The book flew away again. "But where do i stay then?!" He asked, getting frustrated. Another book flew out of the shelf. It flipped pages until it was at the right one. The highlighted word, this time; Was 'Here.'

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**(1): You see what i did there? :P Oh well, there's nothing wrong in giving other people hints about what else interests me besides Danny Phantom.**


	8. Chapter 8: Unfinished business

**This is the last chapter, just a warning. And i know it's oh so very short.**

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Chapter 8: Unfinished business

"Uuh, okay… But where am i in the Ghost zone?" The very same book that had told him about the Ghost zone and Clockwork flew in front of him, once again. It flipped it's pages and showed him another page, this one entitled 'The Ghost Zone Library.' "The Ghost zone library is a library placed deep inside the Ghost zone. Despite it's look from the outside, the inside is huge with several rooms. The library keeps expanding on the inside, as the library has books on everything. For now the library is unoccupied and can be used as a lair." He finished muttering. "A lair?" He questioned himself. The book flipped a few pages and showed him another page. "Lairs. All ghosts have lairs, some of the lairs placed on islands, floating buildings and some of them placed behind purple doors. A lair is the ghost's home and usually most of the ghosts are very territorial." And then Ghostwriter realized something. "Ghosts don't cross over because they have unfinished business, right?" The book highlighted the word 'yes'. "But what kind of unfinished business could i possibly have?" The book now highlighted the words 'Think about it'. Ghostwriter thought back at the short time he had before he died. "Got it!" He shouted optimisticly, while snapping his fingers. But then his face fell. "Of course! My book that got blown to smitherines, which took me two years to write… I wasn't even done working on it. Of course of ALL things i could have as unfinished business, it had to be this!" Ghostwriter facepalmed. "It could take years rewriting everything, not to mention the rest of the story i never got around to finish writing." The book flipped some pages and highlighted the words; 'you better get started then.'

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Ghostwriter didn't know how long he had sitten in front of the Quandrum keyboard, but it had felt like hours. He groaned and tapped on the keyboard with his fingers. Oh how he hated having writer's block, not even one single word he could type today. **(Writer's Block: The twin of 'Art Block'. Writer's Block is when a writer can't write anything at all, no matter how much the writer tries to. It can take days or even weeks before it cures itself.)** He decided to read a book instead, maybe he could even gain some inspiration from doing that. Another book flew towards him, this time however it slipped into his grip. Ghostwriter held the book in front of him and looked at the cover and then suddenly he felt like a lightbulb had gone off up above his head. He had an idea, and he knew what to call the book. He wanted to call his book, 'The Fright Before Christmas'. Had a nice ring to it. Ghostwriter was lucky that the writer's block had stopped so early, usually he would have them for about a month or so. Oh well, better not waste precious time thinking about that. Ghostwriter slipped the book back in the bookshelf it belonged to, and scurried over to the Quandrum keyboard. Soon enough, only the sounds of someone typing on a keyboard, could be heard coming from inside the library…

**THE END.**

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**I know this is kind of a stupid ending, but i'm pleased with myself. This story took hours to write... Oh well, happy holidays !**


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